


Island of Kyrochitten

by ThePiedPiper



Series: Kyrochitten [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Cannibalism, Horror, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Spoons, but not w/ main characters, lost on an island, minor rape at beginning, weird as fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-09 10:30:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePiedPiper/pseuds/ThePiedPiper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurosaki Ichigo, an escaped convict meets Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the Espada Police Force's Sexta. When Ichigo escapes Las Noches Penitentiary Grimmjow & Nnoitira come running with the help of Shinji. On the long journey back home their plane crashes leaving them stranded on the secret island of Kyrochitten. The boys soon discover that the people there are far from normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys so my friend and I wrote this story on fanfic.net, and I decided it was time to post it here. Our user name is onehalfofk2equalspi. Hope you guys enjoy.

Ichigo POV

I woke up on the cold, dingy concrete floor having just fallen off the old bed situated in the corner of my small cell. Sweat coated my naked torso, long orange locks stuck to my back and neck while my hands shook like an earthquake and my mouth dried up like a desert. I could feel my heart slam against my chest and pound in my ears. I took a deep, shuddering breath as I tried to calm myself.

It was just a dream.

'Ya okay, king?' I think I just shit myself.

"Dear god, Shiro. Are you trying to kill me?" I scowled as his cackling laughter rang in my head.

My scowl deepened as I heard the familiar sound of a silver spoon being dragged across the metal bars of the cells. A high pitched screech of 'Wake up ya lazy bastards!' echoed in the dimly lit corridor. The annoying clinking finally stopped when fairy-like shoes, with tinkling bells on the curved and pointed ends, appeared in front of my cell. I looked up at the seven foot giant who glared down at me with his dark beady eye - he had a make shift eye patch covering the other (a simple white bandana wrapped around his head).

"Talkin' to yerself again, strawberry?" I rolled my eyes as I huffed and pulled myself from the ground.

"Just do your job and leave me the hell alone."

"Tch, whatever." He pulled a large set of keys from his pocket, the movement causing them to hit one another and clink noisily. Once the cell door slid open I shuffled down the hall behind the other inmates.

Cell block 15 in Hueco Mundo's one and only Las Noches Penitentiary has been my home for the last 5 years. According to the law I was sentenced to 45 years based on a first degree murder charge. If you ask me, the bastard deserved what he got. But of course my opinion doesn't count.

I entered the communal showers, which were stark white like everything else in the prison. Playful banter was shot around by the other inmates and boisterous laughter bounced off the walls echoing throughout the room. I watched the steam curl around the bare feet of my fellow inmates as I divested myself of my prison jumper. I strode towards an empty stall keeping my eyes downwards so as to not attract any attention. The weird spoon loving warden had given me some advice, and I was sure as hell gonna follow it. I turned the silver knob till the scorching water cascaded out and beat into my back. I grabbed the shampoo, making sure to thoroughly coat my hands before I began to wash my hair. This task took longer than it normally would because my hair was so long, and I refused to have it cut. After ridding my hair of any leftover shampoo I reached for the bar of soap. As I washed myself I could feel eyes on me causing a shiver to run down my spine. In my haste to get out of the showers I failed to notice a looming figure behind me. When his hand clamped over my mouth I dropped the bar of soap; it landed with a dull thud that echoed in the now quite room. I realized that everyone else had cleared out, and I was trapped. My assailant's other arm snaked around my waist as he pulled my body against his own. I felt his arousal pressing against my back side. This man was huge. His head lowered to be level with my ear, his warm breath fanning out across the appendage.

"Ya dropped the soap." I felt his chest rumble with silent laughter. "Ya gunna pick that up?" Ginjō.

I shook my head as I squirmed trying to get away. This only served to anger him as he roughly shoved me against the cool tile wall. He yanked on my hair, pulling my head back forcefully. I glared up at him and spit in his face. I smirked. Ginjō slammed me into the wall once more.

"Listen here, brat. I'm done playin' games. I wanna get off and yer just gunna shut the fuck up 'n enjoy it. Got it?"

He took my silence as an agreement and pressed me firmly against the wall, holding me still. My knees felt weak and my body was shaking. I squeezed my eyes shut as he rammed into me. I screamed, feeling as if I was being torn in half. My fingers clawed at the tiled wall attempting to get a grip on something.

"I thought I told you to shut the fuck up!" He picked up his pace as his hands found purchase on my hips, holding me still in a bruising grip. He was panting in my ear, grunting like an animal. It was disgusting, I felt disgusting. Tears started streaming down my face as I begged a silent plea of help.

"Shiro, help me. Please."

I could tell he was close. His thrusts became sporadic and his pace increased. I felt Shiro pressing on the forefront of my mind, his angry curses and screams echoing in my head as he tried to take control.

"Say my name. Ginjō. Say it."

I shook my head as I felt my conscious slowly slip and fade into black. The last thing I heard was Shiro's watery voice dripping with malice and hate.

"Ginjō. I'm gunna rip yer dick off 'n make ya eat it."

I regained conscious. My eye lids felt heavy and my head was fuzzy. I pulled myself from the ground, my legs weak and shaking under my weight. A shooting pain skittered up my spine that caused me to nearly fall to the ground again. I raised my arm to brush the hair from my eyes finding that my arms felt like wet noodles. I peered down at my body, my brows furrowing as I assessed the damage. My black prison jumper was ripped and torn in several places. Dirt was caked under my nails, dried blood coated my knuckles. I assumed it was the blood of an unfortunate victim that Shiro came upon. Bruises had begun to blossom in various shades of blue, green and yellow on my tan skin, covering the length of my arms and legs. My lip was split and my left eye was swollen shut.

"Shiro, what the hell did you do?"

'I saved you. I will protect you till the very end.'

Visions of screaming prison guards, of Ginjō and of bright crimson flashed before me causing pain to shoot through my body, ending with an intense headache. I dug the heel of my hands into my eyes hoping to rid myself of the horrible images.

"Yes, but at what cost?! One man's life is not worth so many others! You're becoming just like him."

'Don't you dare compare me to that monster.'

My headache increased as Shiro rampaged within my inner world. I could tell he was hurt and frustrated.

'How could ya say that, king? Huh?!'

I slumped to the ground, the pain too much for my body to handle; my eyes slid shut.

***

Naked trees danced in my swirling vision and stilled after I blinked a few times, bringing my world into focus. I sat up, squinting as the setting sun shone in my eyes. I combed my hair with my fingers attempting to untangle it and rid it of the dead leaves that littered the ground. After standing to my feet, albeit very shakily, I took in my surroundings. I groaned.

Where am I? Fuck.

"Oi, Shiro. You got us into this mess. Wanna help me out here?" I continued to scan the area as I waited for an answer. I frowned. He wasn't going to answer. He's pissed.

I decided to start walking. An escaped convict doesn't stand a good chance standing in the middle of nowhere when there's probably a bounty out for him.

As I began walking I probed my mind for Shiro. It seemed as if he had receded into the farthest corners of my mind because I couldn't feel him at all. I felt uneasy without his comforting and protective presence. My eyes darted every which way, scanning for any signs of trouble. The noises coming from the dark made me pick up the pace, and I soon found myself running through the woods. My hair whipped out behind me as my legs pumped. There was a clearing through a thicket of bushes just a few feet ahead of me. I moved through the foliage as fast as my tired body would allow. I broke free from the branches and leaves to find myself on a cracked and worn sidewalk. A smirk spread on my features as I looked down the sidewalks making sure no one was roaming the streets. When I confirmed that the roads were deserted I began my trek under the flickering street lights as I tried to regulate my breathing. It seemed that I was in an abandoned neighborhood. I glanced up at the faded green sign at the corner of an intersection; the words there caught my eye. Tsuki Dōro*. Hope blossomed in my chest as I bolted down the road, weaving through the familiar alleyways and short cuts until I found the house I was looking for. I stopped in the overgrown lawn, short of breath. My chest rose and fell rapidly, my heart thumping behind my ribs. Shiro had brought me home.

The house had become a faded yellow, the green door hung limply from its hinges, having been broken down for awhile. I moved through the bright green grass till I stood on the door step. I took a deep breath and slowly entered. My bare feet moved along the smooth wooden floor that was now covered in a thick layer of dust. I stood in what used to be the living room. Nothing remained of it expect my memories and the faint smell of the vanilla incense my mom used to be so fond of. I pulled myself from my spot and trudged up the stairs that creaked quietly under my weight. My fingers trailed smoothly over the wall where family photos once hung. I passed my parents' bedroom, and my sisters', only stopping when I came to the door that held a small sign with the number '15' painted in red. I pushed on the old door with the pads of my fingers causing it to swing open. I strode to the corner where my bed used to sit and knelt down. I felt along the wooden boards, my fingers moving against the grooves and dips until I found the loosened piece of wood. My nails slipped into a small crevice giving me leverage and allowing the wooden board to pull free from its brothers. I lay the slab aside and retrieved a silver box followed by a matching key. After unlocking my treasure I flipped the box open, a smile stretching over my face as I peered at the contents. In the box sat 805,000 Japanese yen*, (about the equivalent to 10,000 U.S dollars) a fake passport and I.D. Hichigo Shirosaki. Creative, huh? I slipped a few hundred yen from the box before relocking it and set out to buy some new clothes.

I wandered into town, searching for a clothing store. I had to keep to the shadows in order to avoid passing cars although they were few and far apart. I came upon an old thrift store labeled 'Soul Society'. There was an alleyway entrance to the store, which was perfect. I rounded the corner, pulling a bobby pin from my hair, making orange strands fall down into my face. I deftly picked the lock, wiggling the hair pin around till I heard the tumbler give. I grinned, pushed the door open, slipped inside, and closed it shut behind me with a resounding click. I tossed the few hundred yen onto the glass counter hoping it was enough for what I needed.

The shop was quaint and overflowing with random knick-knacks, clothing, books, and music. The smell of pot lingered in the air and seeped into my prison jumper. Posters of Bob Marley and Nirvana covered the wall as well as signs boasting about peace and love.

I moved through the aisles of clothing searching for something suitable to wear. I pulled clothes from the rack and swiftly changed before checking myself out in the full length mirror.

My feet were clad in old vintage black chucks. Acid-washed jeans hugged my lean legs with a black belt holding them on my hips. A blue One Piece tee covered my torso. My long orange locks were pulled back and stuffed into a gray beanie. My bangs swept over my eyes and framed my face. Ray Bans covered my eyes and completed the look. It felt good to be rid of the prison jumper.

I pulled an extra set of clothing off the racks and stuffed them into a small black duffel bag along with my silver box. Now that I had what I needed I left the small shop through the back and continued my walk down the street till I came upon a bus stop. After plopping down on the bench I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my head on top.

What am I going to do? I can't stay here. They're looking for me. Should I leave Japan? But where to?

"Didn't yer pop's crazy old friend move 'ta the states? Maybe he could hook a bitch up."

I spluttered. "Shiro! The fuck? And I'm not a bitch!"

"Whatever. You deserve it."

A frown tugged at my lips. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. My emotions got the best of me."

"S'alright. You've had a hard day, Ichi. But think about it. We could go 'ta the States and start over."

"Yeah, I like that. Where in the U.S though?"

I could practically feel Shiro's manic grin. "We're goin' ta Cali baby."

***

A few hours and an awkward bus ride later I was at Japan's international airport. After finding the right flight, booking a ticket, and waiting agonizingly long, I was on the plane.

I was surprised that I had no trouble getting through security. I expected my face to be plastered all over the TV screens and printed in news papers. With the chance of that happening it probably wasn't a good idea to be here, but the thought of being free was glued to my brain. I have to get away.

I watched eagerly out the window, excited for takeoff. This was my first flight. Soon everyone was aboard the plane and all the safety procedures were explained. Next thing I knew we were soaring above the clouds. I drifted into a deep sleep while watching the giant puffs of white pass. When I awoke we were about to touch down in Huntington Beach, California*. The plane landed smoothly and we all disembarked. I stretched my tired limbs before navigating my way through the crowds. I soon found that the average American was a few inches taller than my 5'11. I finally found what I was looking for: a payphone. I had already converted some of my yen into American dollars and coins. I slid two quarters into the machine and dialed the number I knew by heart. He picked up on the second ring.

"Good day, this is Urahara's Shoten! What can I do for ya?"

"Oi, hat 'n' clogs, it's me."

"Yare, yare*. Kuro-"

"Yeah, ya old fart. Now listen I need a favor."

"I'm listening." I imagined him waving his dumbass fan. An old habit he had when he was thinking.

I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly as I began to explain myself. "I'm in a bit of a situation and I need a place to stay. I'm already in the states, and I'm gunna try and find a job. I can pay rent and even help out at your store and –"

"Say no more. I have the perfect place."

"You're a life saver, hat 'n' clogs."

For the first time in a long time I felt as if things were going to get better.

After a couple weeks I had finally settled into my new home. It was a two level apartment, complete with a kitchen full of modern furnishings, 2 nice-sized bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, and a large living room decked out with a flat screen and stereo system. Hat 'n' clogs had gone overboard, and I was more than grateful. I had also found a job at some Chinese take-out place. Luckily, the owner speaks Japanese because my English is far from perfect. I had also gotten a haircut. My unruly orange locks now fell to my shoulders. It killed me to cut the hair that reminded me so much of my mother, but I couldn't afford to be caught. I had to change some things.

I lay spread eagle on my bed searching for a roommate on the new laptop Kisuke had so generously given me. Rent was hard to pay and an extra hand would lessen the load.

A loud bang and hushed voices broke me from my search and made my heart pound in my chest.

What the hell?

***

Grimmjow POV

The room was thick with cigar smoke; it billowed out and moved around the faces of my peers. I lifted my own Cuban cigar to my lips and took a slow drag, filling my lungs with the smooth, sweet vapor. I held it in for a few seconds before releasing it to interlace with the already impenetrable air. I was sitting at a circular poker table centered in the middle of a small storage room. A single light fixture hung above the table, flickering every now and then, providing the room with a soft, hazy glow.

Though we were sitting at a poker table, my coworkers and I were playing a slightly different card game: Spoons. I was dealt my four cards and waited for Ulquiorra to start the new round. As I waited, I looked around at my opponents who were also my colleagues and closest friends. We all worked in a collective organization of Japan's best and brightest criminal officers and investigators. We were known nationwide as the Espada under Aizen Sosuke, the Attorney General of Japan. There were ten of us, each specializing in a different skill that made the organization lethal and effective. We all had a gothic styled number tattooed to different parts of our body, representing the order in which we were initiated into the Espada.

To my right is Neliel Tu Oderschvank, a gorgeous, busty chick with long, sea foam green hair and large, hazel eyes. If I didn't see her as a sister, I would probably fuck her; she's the only woman I truly respect. Nel specializes in the rehabilitation of juvenile delinquents. Essentially, she scares kids straight, and she's really fuckin' good at it to. She has a large three inked onto the center of her back, which makes her look even more intimidating to the poor kids she works with.

Next to Nel is Szayelaporro Granz, or Szayel (…or ya could just call 'em douche bag) for short. He has shoulder length pink hair and amber eyes that analyze and dissect every living thing they come across. He's surprisingly tall for his thin, wiry frame, standing at 6'1". Szayel is a genius with anything related to science, especially the human anatomy. He is the head of the forensics department dealing with anything and everything found at crime scenes. Szayel also deals with any injuries that may befall any of the Espada or Aizen and his lackeys: Gin and Tousen. He's awesome, but can be a complete douche nozzle sometimes. His tattoo consists of eight parallel lines over and under his left eye; there are four black, gothic roman numerals above the eye and another four below it.

Next is Starrk Coyote, who is currently slumped in his chair catching a quick nap between rounds. How he gets to sleep in a minute, which is around the time it takes to shuffle the deck and re-deal the cards, is beyond me. The man is large, almost 6'2" with thickly corded muscle along his whole body. Starrk has unkempt, wavy dark brown hair and droopy, blue-gray eyes that are almost always closed. He is the arms specialist of the organization; guns are his life and he knows how to use them better than anyone. Although lazy and often times lethargic, Starrk is the most dependable guy I have ever worked with, and he is one of my best friends. His tattoo is a gothic number one that's etched into the back of his left hand.

Speaking of best friends; next to Starrk sits Nnoitra Gigla, the tallest mother fucker I have ever met. He stands at 7 feet, with shoulder-length, straight, black hair, beady dark gray eyes (with an eye patch covering his left eye), and a huge piano-key grin. Most people think he's a weird-ass creep because of his affinity for a certain round eating utensil, but he grows on you after awhile. Actually, Nnoi has a rather large collection of spoons that he is very protective of… I'm guessing he has mommy issues but who knows. Anyway, he has a number five tattooed on his tongue that looks totally badass. Nnoi is in charge of Japan's top security prison, Las Noches, which is where we were all currently residing. Though he is the overseer of the prison, he gets bored often, so sometimes he will come on recovery missions with me.

Next to Nnoi is Yammy Llargo, an extremely buff giant with a large, rigid head and rolling muscles all over his body. The top of his head is bald, but he has a black ponytail that falls over his back. He also has a short black beard that frames his large, square jaw. Yammy is in charge of withdrawing information from unwilling detainees, and his success rate is around 95%; the other 5% didn't make it through the "info-extraction" stage. Yammy is surprisingly loyal and gentle with his friends, but he can become a scary bastard when angered. He has a large, black ten on his left shoulder, being the last person recruited to the Espada.

To Yammy's right, and my left, sat Ulquiorra Cifer, a gothic looking man who has green streaks tattooed down his pale cheeks starting from the bottom of his emerald green eyes. One night, a drunken Nnoi and I had brought him to a tattoo parlor to get them done, and since he was just as wasted, he allowed us to do it. They actually looked super badass, and Ulquiorra eventually grew fond of them. He's small and freakishly pale with jet black hair and a forever stoic expression plastered to his face. He's in charge of suicides within the prison and is also the teams' psychologist. We all have to pass his psychoanalysis test every year which is a major pain in the ass. Ulquiorra's gothic styled four is inscribed on the left side of his chest, right above his heart.

Then there's me in all my glory. I'm the sixth Espada, often known as Sexta, and I have exotic, European looks that make all the women (and plenty of men) fawn over me. I have electric, gravity-defying, blue hair and azure eyes to match. My occupation is to recover escaped convicts, dead or alive. In other words, I'm a bounty hunter, and I am the best in the world. My black, gothic six is emblazoned on the lower left side of my back and titled slightly to the left.

Currently, I'm wearing a white long-sleeved, button-down dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up above my elbows to reveal corded forearms and the sleek, black panther tattoo slinking its way down my arm. The top three buttons of my shirt are undone to show off my chest. I have on skinny, black dress slacks that show of my muscular legs, and attached to my pants, are black suspenders. A solid black tie hangs low around my neck to complete my casual business attire. I'm also sporting black square-framed glasses that make me look "Just fucking fantastic!" according to Nel.

There were three other Espada who were not currently present in the break room. Barragón is this old fart of a guy who works as our techie; he does everything that involves the use of a computer: hacking, tracking aliases, background checks, fake I.D's, etc. Then there's this black guy, Zom-something, who deals with the victims of intense crimes. We never see him since he's always assisting the plaintiffs in court. He is also our organization's lawyer in case we need him. Finally we had Aaroniero, who always wears the weirdest shit and keeps to himself. He refuses to befriend any of us, and seems to have a rather large stick up his ass. He's the undercover specialist and always gathers most of the information needed for cases.

I took another puff of my cigar right before the new round started. 'Spoons' is a simple game. Each person has four cards in hand. The deck starts with the dealer and when the round starts, the dealer will begin drawing cards in rapid succession looking for cards that could give him/her a four of a kind. If a card is unwanted, you pass it to the person to your right and they take it. Every person can only hold four cards at one time, so when you find a card you need, you replace it for another card and pass that card on. The cards will circulate around and back to the dealer so that, when the deck runs out, he can draw from the newly formed pile. When someone gets a four-of-a-kind they will grab a spoon, which is located in the middle of the table. There is always one less spoon than the amount of players, so that, when the first person snatches a spoon, everyone else is supposed to quickly grab for the remaining spoons. The person who does not get a spoon gets a letter, and the first person to spell out the word 'SPOON' loses.

I looked down at my hand again; I had two 2s, a 7, and a queen. Ulquiorra started the round, swiftly checking the cards and passing them on to me. I was on a mission to find my two's and moved the cards with lightning speed to Nel. As cards passed, the tension in the room amplified, backs straightened, and eyes darted around with super speed. Even Starrk sat ridged in his chair, not one to ever lose a card game. Suddenly, Nel's hand snaked out to grab one of Nnoi's simple silver spoons, and in less than a second everyone was diving in to grab their own. I grabbed a spoon only to be challenged when Nnoitra's hand wrapped around the base of it.

"Oh, hell nah bitch!" I yelled and dived across the table to punch an unsuspecting Nnoitra directly in the jaw. He let go of the spoon in favor of grabbing his aching chin.

"Grimmjow, you mother fucker!" I doubled over in laughter as Nnoi clutched at his face, then I looked down at my trophy.

When I held it up for the world to see, everyone froze, including me. An eerie silence filled the room and I gulped. Fear clutched at my insides, and I clamed up. Oh fuck! I slowly looked down into Nnoitra's eyes and took a step backwards. I had accidently bent the spoon in the midst of all the chaos, and now my best friend's face was contorted with a demonic anger that made me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Look N-Nnoi, bro, I'm truly so-"

"I'm going to murder you in your sleep, Jeagerjaques." Nnoitra interrupted me. I laughed nervously.

"Nnoi, buddy, I can fix it man, look." I bent the spoon back in place and held it out to him. "See, all better, ne?" Nnoitra lunged at me, tackling me on the ground. He tried to pin me down, but I was too quick and slipped out of his hold. Before he could react, I pushed him away from me and stood up. As Nnoitra tried to attack me again, the break-room door opened. Everyone turned to look at the new arrival, Gin.

Ichimaru Gin is a fox-like man with silvery hair, and eyes that were narrowed to the point that they appeared to be closed. He always has a wide, toothless grin plastered on his face yet it's always so condescending. Gin is another one of my good friends and I preferred him to Tousen, Aizen's second assistant who was a major dick head. Gin looked over at me and Nnoi and chuckled.

"Did ya piss 'em off again Grimmy?" he was referring to Nnoi of course, and I scowled. "I didn't do shit. Just accidently bent one of his oh-so-precious spoons." Gin's grin widened, stretching across the expanse of his face.

"Oh dear. What're we gunna do with the both of you?"

"Fuck off Gin!" Nnoi said, his anger slowly ebbing away, replaced with irritation. Gin ignored him and walked over to me. In his hand was a vanilla folder, and I immediately straightened up, knowing I had a case.

"Has Nnoi told you about the boy who escaped?" I looked over at Nnoi whose face drained of color.

"No, it must've slipped his mind." Gin nodded and handed me the folder.

"You leave as soon as you are ready. Everything will be explained to you on the way to the airport." I looked up at him, confused. "Wait! Where am I going?"

"America. The kid moved fast, getting' on an airplane within 12 hours of his escape, and by the time we found his alias, he was gone. We tracked the kid's second identity, Shirosaki, and found that he was on a one-way flight 'ta California. Once you arrive, an FBI agent will be waitin' fer ya with more details." I nodded and grinned, showcasing my overly sharp canines. It's been awhile since I had to leave the country for a mission and the thought of the hot ass I'd find in Cali heightened my spirits.

"Oh and before I ferget," Gin said as he turned to leave the room "Nnoitra will be goin' with ya." And with that he walked out of the room.

I turned to look at Nnoi. "I'll meet ya at the front gate in an hour, don't be late." Then I followed Gin out the door to go get packed.

***

I went to my apartment, which was located in a small building on the penitentiary grounds. All the Espada lived in that building, and we all had our own full apartment. Each floor of the building was a different apartment and the order of Espada was matched with the floor levels of the apartment complex, so obviously I was on the sixth floor. My apartment was complete with a full-sized kitchen and bar, a full bathroom, a bedroom, an office, a dining room, and a living room.

I grabbed my travelling bag and started throwing in clothes, toiletries, plenty of condoms, and my anger journal for the trip. Ulquiorra makes me keep a journal, because he's an ass, with everything that I do or feel in it. He says it "helps with my extreme anger issues and hot headed tendencies". I find it stupid, but Aizen backed him up and now I'm stuck looking like a little bitch writing in my fucking diary.

In a special transport case, I pack my favorite weapons: a twin set of Beretta 92FS 9mm pistols with silencers attached, a Benelli M4 semi-automatic shotgun that I call Pantera (which is my favorite weapon), and a folding Gerber DMF knife. I have four boxes of ammunition for my pistols and two for the shotgun. Once I had all my shit together I left my room, heading for the prison entrance.

Nnoi was waiting for me at the gate and together we walked to my car which was located in a parking garage just outside the penitentiary fence. He had a surly expression on his face which told me he was still pissed about the spoon. I couldn't give two shits though and knew that he would eventually get over it. We approached my car, a black 1985 De Tomaso Pantera GT5-S supercar. She was my pride and joy, sleek, luxurious, and fast. We climbed in and took off, heading for the airport.

"So, you gunna tell me 'bout the breakout?" I asked Nnoi.

"Well… this kid's been in jail since he was 18. Apparently, he killed a famous serial killer who was the main suspect to the murder of his mom years ago. The guy was found innocent, there wasn't enough evidence I think; I guess Kurosaki decided 'ta get revenge."

"wait, Kurosaki Ichigo?" I asked, recognizing the name.

"Yeah. Honestly, he doesn't seem the type 'ta kill outta cold blood 'cause I've been round him an' he's real docile, but I guess ya never know. He got out by stealin' mah keys while I was sleepin'. We gotta meet this FBI guy in California called shin-somethin' and he'll get us through customs and shit."

I nodded, knowing I would be studying the vanilla envelope Gin had given me.

***

When we reached the airport, I parked my car in one of the VIP parking lots and got my shit out of the trunk. We picked up our tickets, checked in our carry-on, and passed through security. Nnoitra was stopped and questioned about the abundance of spoons in his carry-on, but after he told them to fuck off and flashed his badge, they let him through. Honestly, I tried not laughing, but I couldn't help it; Nnoi was fucking retarded for bringing his entire spoon collection. Anyway, since we were Espada, we were allowed to bring weapons (though no bombs) on the airplanes, even on international flights. Once on the plane I started flipping through the envelope, excited for the challenge of a chase. Kurosaki was going down.

***

"Bitch Journal" Entries

Day 1:

We touched down in Cali.

I swear I wanted 'ta beat the shit outta Nnoi. He was polishing his spoon sets on the plane and talking the whole damn time. Who the fuck brings spoons on a fuckin' plane!? UGH!

Only good part was fuckin' the plane bitch in the bathroom.

Met Shinji too. That guy is just as weird as Nnoi.

The place we're stayin' at is fuckin' small, so I made Nnoi get another room.

Went to a bar 'ta check out the goods. Found a nice piece o' ass and banged her. She had orange hair, my favorite!

Day 3:

Kurosaki Ichigo is smart. He ain't usin' anything we can track 'em with. Makes it real fun for me. Need 'ta get laid again though.

Bought more ammo for Pantera today.

Oh, and, Nnoi has been annoying the FBI guy and I'm pretty sure this Shinji guy is ready to beat him in the face. At least he ain't botherin' me.

Day 4:

Been askin' around 'ta see if anyone recognizes the kid. No one yet, but while I was out I got a number from a chick name Harribel.

I called her up and she came 'ta my apartment. Slut was packin' a huge rack and a nice ass. Heh, we fucked like rabbits for hours.

Day 6:

Shinji stole one of Nnoi's favorite spoons and ATE CEREAL with it! I think Nnoi might have had a heart attack, 'cause he started hyperventilating and then he fainted. Maybe even foamed at the mouth a little. That shit was funny.

Talked to this bald guy (his head looked like a dick) who saw Ichigo workin' at a Chinese restaurant. HA! What the fuck, the kid's Japanese!? Going to check it out and see what I can find.

Day 7:

Asian Chef was hilarious. I couldn't understand him and every time he talked I burst out laughing. Turns out Kurosaki was the restaurant's bitch, aka: delivery boy. I decided to order Sum Yung Gai, hehe, to go.

Anyway, Mr. Wang had the wrong info on Kurosaki. The kids crafty, gotta give 'im that! Going to stake out the area though, since it seems the kid didn't leave the area near the airport. Probably in case he needs to make a quick get-away.

Fucked that Harribel chick again. She's not as good the second time around.

Day 8:

Nnoitra finally did something today. Seems the kid got a haircut, and he was captured on traffic cameras.

The kid was walkin' so he might live nearby. We may be close.

Went 'ta visit the U.S air force base that was close by. Met some cool guys like Kenny and Shuuhei.

Also went to a strip club, and I found out Shinji was a male stripper in college. HAHAHA that's funny as shit! I made fun of him later for it.

Day 9:

Slow day. This Kurosaki kid is starting 'ta piss me off. We keep getting sightings around the city, but he hasn't used any credit cards, doesn't have a car, and no apartments are under his name or his alias, Shirosaki, so we can't find him.

Emailed the old fart, Barragón, 'ta see if he can track a second alias.

Met a guy at a bar. He was cute: had curly brown hair and bright blue eyes. We had some really hardcore sex. HA! I couldn't remember his name, so I called 'em Pinky cause he was wearing a pink shirt.

Day 11:

One of Shinji's FBI buddies found us a potential second alias on the kid, Hichigo. Wow, creative right?

The guy's gunna send me the info, hopefully soon.

I went to the gym to work out, and got into a fight with this huge guy. I choked a bitch.

Day 13:

We found him!

***

I was riding in a black SUV, on our way to Ichigo's apartment. Anticipation and excitement caused my adrenal glands to start working furiously. It felt like electricity was running through my veins as the thrill of the hunt worked its magic on me. I was grinning wickedly as I toyed with Pantera in my lap. My two Baretta were secured in a chest harness around my torso along with the knife, extra rounds of ammunition, and a grenade just in case. I loved grenades; their explosive power and unpredictable nature was thrilling to me, and they were fun to use too. I was also wearing a bullet proof vest, in case Kurosaki was packing, which was under the tight black t-shirt I was wearing.

Nnoi was beside me with an equally insane grin on his face. He was sporting a M4A1 Carbine semi-automatic assault rifle, which he had obtained from Shinji (probably by sucking the guys dick). He also had a set of .50 caliber IMI Desert Eagle Mark XIX handguns strapped to his chest, along with the same Gerber knife as me.

Shinji was with us too, sitting in the front seat of the car, directing his officers to surround the apartment. I composed myself, reigning in the excitement temporarily in order to keep myself concentrated on the task ahead. I always liked to appear stoic and unemotional; acting like my job was no big deal was no easy feat, but I always managed to pull it off.

When we arrived at Kurosaki's apartment, Nnoi, Shinji, and I got out of the car and quietly walked up to the door. I knocked on the front door, giving Ichigo a chance to come with us peacefully. We knew he was home because one of Shinji's officer's had tracked him for us. I waited a few minutes and there was still no answer which meant one thing; Kurosaki knew we were here. I looked at Shinji and he nodded, understanding that security around the house needed to be tight. He started barking orders through his radio earpiece as I worked on the door lock.

I got the door open easily and slipped inside the house, Nnoi following closely behind me. The apartment was two stories, so as Shinji and his men searched the downstairs, Nnoitra and I went upstairs. All the lights in the apartment were off, making it hard to see around corners. We walked up the steps quietly, hoping to catch the escaped convict off guard. At the top of the steps there was a hallway with three doors leading to different rooms.

We approached the first door and opened it; it was an office which was currently unoccupied. The next door was a vacant bathroom, which left the last door. I tried the handle and it was locked. I stepped back, took a deep breath and kicked at the spot just under the door handle. The door splintered under the force and gave in, swinging open with a loud bang. With my weapon ready, I barged into the room and looked around, spotting a lean figure in the far corner. Kurosaki Ichigo was not what I was expecting.

I had seen Ichigo's mug shot, and it did not do him justice. Firstly that picture was black and white which made Ichigo look gaunt and dreary. Also, the picture was taken when the boy was 18, which made the kid look even younger and slightly scrawny. But seeing Kurosaki in person was completely different. He had bright orange hair that was sprawled lazily atop his head. Piercing chocolate brown eyes stared up at me, filled with defiance, and an angry scowl marred his features. His skin was tanned and smooth and beautiful. He stood to his full height, which looked to be around 5'11"and I could tell that the kid had a nice body. He was well-built, with taut muscle on every inch of his frame. He was toned, but not brawny. He had long, gorgeous legs that put female supermodels to shame.

I really regretted having to arrest the kid. I raised Pantera and pointed it at Ichigo, a little disappointed at how easy his capture was.

***

"Kurosaki Ichigo, you're comin' back 'ta Japan with me."

*Tsuki Dōro: Moon Road

*10,000 dollars in the U.S is worth 804,200 yen in Japan.

One Japanese yen is worth 0.01 U.S dollars. DAMN.

*Huntington Beach, California - 'cause the members of Avenged Sevenfold are from there and I love them.

*Yare, yare: My, my


	2. BŪMU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurosaki Ichigo, an escaped convict meets Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, the Espada Police Force's Sexta. When Ichigo escapes Las Noches Penitentiary Grimmjow & Nnoitira come running with the help of Shinji. On the long journey back home their plane crashes leaving them stranded on the secret island of Kyrochitten. The boys soon discover that the people there are far from normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the second chapter. Please tell me what you guys think! ^_^ enjoy!

Soft, foreign footsteps moved across the wooden floors, hushed voices accompanying them.

What the hell?

I stood from my bed, crossing the room to peer out the window. A black SUV was parked haphazardly and the doors were thrown open. Huntington Patrol cars were littered across the parking lot as well. My heart sunk.

"Shit."

"King, were kinda fucked."

I laughed bitterly. "Yeah. No shit Sherlock." I remained by the window as I heard the policemens' hurried footsteps. What I wasn't expecting was a blue-haired sex god to come knocking down my bedroom door. Behind him was the spoon warden and some blonde, skinny dude, but my attention was glued to the man in front of me. The gun pointed in my face and the words tumbling from his full lips didn't register in my mind.

This man was at least 6'3", with thick corded muscle covering his entire body. A crumpled mass of sky blue locks sat atop his head, a few defiant strands hanging in front of his eyes. His eyes were a swirling whirlpool of blues that shone as bright as the sky; dark lashes framed them, making the color stand out even more. He had high cheek bones, a proud, chiseled chin and a straight nose that was crinkled with triumph. A shit eating grin was spread across his face, pointed teeth gleaming. He wore a form fitting black v-neck. A police badge was dangling on a silver chain around his neck. A black panther was inked onto his corded forearm. Dark jeans clung to his muscular legs and baby blue chucks covered his feet.

His commanding presence brought me back to earth. He was now watching me curiously, having caught me staring. I felt heat skitter up my neck and tint my cheeks red; I scowled attempting to cover it up.

His voice came out gruff and velvety. "Oi kid, are ya listenin' ta anything I'm sayin'?"

What an ass. "What the hell are you doing in my house, old man?!"

I heard the warden cackle and a piano-tooth grin, which rivaled Nnoitra's, spread on the blonde's face. A prominent vein throbbed in the blue haired man's forehead.

"Listen here ya dirty little shit, I don't know how you escaped, but we're goin' back ta Japan and then yer goin' back where you belong."

"Fuck you, blueberry." The older man threw his gun to the floor and tangled his long fingers in my shirt before yanking me close to his body. Our chests slammed together and our noses touched, our lips mere centimeters apart. His warm breath fanned across my lips as he whispered.

"You're talking to the Sexta Espada of Aizen's-"

"Don't touch me!" Panic bubbled in my chest as my heart pounded. I pushed against his chest trying to escape but he wouldn't budge so I opted for squirming. "Let. Go." His blue brows furrowed before he shoved me into the wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

My breathing was rapid, my eyes wide with terror. I'm sure I looked like a caged animal.

"Grimm, we need 'ta get goin'."

"Yeah, cuff 'em Nnoi."

The blue haired man retrieved his shotgun with a worried look on his face.

"I'm sorry baby; daddy didn't mean ta throw ya. He was just angry." He said in a creepy voice while stroking the gun soothingly.

He left without a glance back, the blonde following close behind him. The prison warden strode forward, twirling silver cuffs as he went. I looked up at him with wide eyes. I can't go back. I can't.

"Now, now strawberry, it's time 'ta go back, ne?"

"No, listen. Please. I can't go back."

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that."

He ordered me to stick out my hands, but I had a different idea.

One well aimed kick later, and I was sprinting down the hall and down the staircase. I nearly tripped when I leaped over the last few steps. Police men were gaping at me like fish out of water but doing nothing to keep me from escaping. My heart soared as I passed the threshold, only to plummet when a pale fist struck me in the nose causing me to land on my ass.

My hands flew up to cup my now bleeding nose. "Fuckin' shit!"

I felt a weight settle on my chest. "Oi, Grimm! Yer bitch is tryin' ta run." The blonde man had situated himself on top of me, keeping me from going anywhere.

The blue haired man was leaning against the black SUV, an irritated scowl plastered to his face.

"I don't give a shit. Just hurry the fuck up. I need a smoke."

"Hey, fuck face. Get the hell off me." I poked the skinny man in the sides to assert my presence. This only served to make him giggle like a retarded seal before he rolled off my body and squirmed on the floor. I started to stand, quickly glancing at the blue haired man who was too busy digging out whatever was in his ear to notice that I was stealthily making my escape. Before I even made it a foot away from the writhing blonde, a grumbling Nnoitra rushed quickly towards my retreating form. A foot connected solidly with the back of my head giving me no time to react to the man. My forehead met the ground, pain shooting throughout my skull. Black spots crept into my vision and swept my conscious away.

***

"King. Wakey, wakey."

I groaned. I felt like I had been hit by a fucking freight train.

"Nah, you jus' got yer ass kicked by some skinny bitch."

"Shut the hell up, Shiro." He simply replied with a snicker and retired to the back of my mind.

I opened my eyes slowly, allowing the light to flood my vision without blinding me. The dumb-asses had handcuffed me to some dirt caked bathtub. I scrunched my nose up in disgust. The room smelled of urine and -

I turned my head and there, on an old toilet, was the warden. His skinny, pale legs were sprawled out in front of him; the narrow space causing his feet to meet the wall. Dark acid-washed jeans pooled around his ankles. His beady eye was intently focused on the screen of his iPhone, moaning and heavy breathing emitting from the phone speaker.

I spluttered and shoved myself up against the wall.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

"Takin' a dump. Shut the hell up. Ya really need 'ta stop talkin' to yerself." His eye never strayed from the screen.

"You're taking a shit while watching porn?"

"Mmhm."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

This time he did look up. "Nuthin'. It's guy on girl, though I'm not in 'ta that. I was jus' watchin' fer fun. Vaginas are fuckin' disgustin' though."

"Yeah, well if you'd be so kind as to let me go, that'd be awesome."

"I'm a little busy at the moment strawberry."

I groaned, closing my eyes in frustration. What the hell is wrong with these people? I banged my head against the wall creating a resounding thud. Seconds later the blue haired man flung the door open, completely disregarding the man on the toilet.

"Grimm, get yer bitch."

"Hurry the fuck up, Nnoi. Our flight's in a few hours and we still have 'ta go to the store."

The blue haired man took the warden's dismissive wave as a sign of agreement and strode towards me, key in hand. He unlocked the cuff from the bath fixture, wrapped a hand firmly around my upper arm, and pulled me from the tub. I stumbled causing a blush to rise under my skin. The hand around my arm was beginning to make me feel antsy but the feeling was soon gone when the blue haired man threw me down onto a dingy bed that probably hadn't been washed in ages. The cuff was quickly locked around the head board. The man retreated back into the bathroom, leaving me in the decaying room with the sleeping blonde man.

I fingered a loose strand on the thick bedding while I waited for the blue haired man to return. In boredom, I inspected a cheesy painting of a beach that would only be found in hotels. I could smell musk and mold mingling in the air but it was soon replaced by the smell of aftershave and cigarettes. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the man returned. He was staring intently at the wound on my forehead.

"You don't like being close to people, do ya?"

He prodded the area with his fingers sending tingles of electricity through my skin.

My perpetual scowl deepened as I shrugged my shoulders, remaining quiet. He pulled back and flicked my forehead; a scowl of his own marring his angular features.

"Stop scowlin'. You'll give yerself wrinkles."

"Fuck you, blueberry."

"Yeah, alright, Strawberry."

I ignored his comment and he continued his inspection.

"What the hell is your name anyway?"

He cocked a slim blue brow before he began cleaning the dirtied area gently with a wet paper towel, whipping the dried blood from my forehead.

"Grimmjow. Not that it matters. Yer filthy ass is goin' back 'ta jail."

Grimmjow.

It's guttural and rough sounding. It fits the man's personality and image like a glove.

When he was done cleaning the scrape he spread disinfectant cream on it and placed a bandage over it. He righted himself and checked his handy work.

"There. All done. Now try not break yer face again, Kurosaki. We wouldn't wanna ruin such a pretty thing, ne?"

He shot me a feral grin before retreating into the bathroom once more. Yelling ensued, all consisting of the bounty hunter telling the warden to get off his 'pale ass'. They soon emerged from the dank room, Nnoitra sporting a bloody lip. He grudgingly began to throw his things haphazardly into a duffel bag, only taking great care with his spoons.

Grimmjow began prodding the sleeping blonde attempting to wake him up, but he only snored louder. He gave up and moved around the room, collecting copious amounts of Nnoitra's shit. After what felt like a fucking eternity, the warden unlocked the hand cuffs. His grip on my arm was just as tight as Grimmjow's had been. He handed me off to said man before picking up his two bags. The blonde man magically woke up and followed us out the door. It was slammed behind us. I was then thrown into the back of the SUV, Grimmjow following suit and sliding in next to me. His scent filled the small space, quickly and attacking my senses. I found myself staring at his profile and swiftly faced the window, a soft pink blush no doubt spreading across my cheeks.

The other two men had filed in the front. Nnoitra started the car, it rumbling to life before being backed out of the parking spot. I heard a soft click; the doors had been locked. I scowled.

"So, much fer jumpin', huh, king?" He snickered and my scowl deepened.

"Stop poutin' kid." The blue haired man's voice made me jump, having been startled. I sent him a fierce look before facing the window once more.

"I'm not pouting. And don't call me kid. I'm 23."

"Tch."

Nnoitra's driving was beginning to make me sick. He kept taking sharp turns and slamming on the brakes sending me face first into the back of the passenger seat. The blonde man snickered every time, and I was beginning to grow frustrated. He pulled into a parking space haphazardly, nearly hitting a mom and her children, before hitting the breaks. Hard. Again.

And guess what?

My face just got smashed.

AGAIN.

This time Grimmjow turned to look at me, a sneer plastered to his face.

"What the hell did I tell ya? Stop fuckin' up yer face."

With that I felt my last sense of control snap.

I slammed Grimmjow up against the car door, a sneer of my own pulling at my lips.

"First off, why the fuck do you care about my face? And do you think I want to slam my face against your dumb seats? If dumb ass over there knew how to drive I'd be fine!"

The larger man threw my down onto the dark seats, his broad frame hovering over mine.

"Do not call my best friend a dumb ass. And, I don't give a shit about yer ugly ass face. But I can't have you all beat up when I turn you in, now can I? Besides you deserve everything you get coming to ya. Filthy criminal." He practically spat the words in my face. Each one stinging and weighing heavily in my mind.

"That man, no. That monster, deserved the bullet in between his eyes. Hell, I think he deserved worse for all the lives he's taken. The families his so carelessly torn apart."

"Who the hell gave you the right to decide whether another man died?"

"I got the fucking right the moment he took my mother in front of my eyes. I was nine."

"Tch."

The blue haired man seemed to have something to say, but instead, he stayed quiet. He removed himself from my body and got out of the truck, slamming the door as hard as he could behind him before storming off into the store.

"Well, then Ichigo. Looks like you're with us. "

It was the blonde man. I grunted in response.

"Name's Shinji, by the way." I nodded and followed behind Shinji and Nnoitra who had been quiet the entire time. We entered the store, the greeter asking us about our day in a dull, monotonous voice. Shinji replied happily, the warden and I simply grunted and continued on.

Nnoitra grabbed a small, blue basket before stalking off down the aisles, grabbing bags of candy and tossing them in. He came across the Spaghetti-O's, a canned meal made of tomato sauce, noodles and your choice of meatballs or hotdogs.

"Oi, Shin, wha's this?" A long, boney finger was pointed at the cans.

I could feel a headache coming on already.

The blonde man wacked Nnoitra in the back of the head, but the man was too fixated on the food to notice.

"I told ya not ta call me that, baka! And those 'er Spaghetti-O's dumb ass. It says it on the can."

His arms shot out to sweep a whole shit load of the cans into his basket, some falling to the floor with a loud clatter. A manic grin spread on his face as his looked at us.

"Alright. I'm ready 'ta go."

I should've just stayed in my jail cell. Fuck me.

***

We arrived at the airport an hour later, and I watched as Grimmjow and the grin twins checked in their luggage. Grimmjow looked awesome, sporting snug, black jeans that showed off all his best features, and a white long-sleeved button-up dress shirt. He had on black chucks and matching suspenders that completed the ensemble. The luggage was all carry on, and we moved through security rather quickly since Shinji was a federal agent. The only resistance we came across was when Nnoitra's bag was X-rayed.

"Sir, do you have a bunch of cans in your bag?" The bag-checker asked.

"Hn, yeah, why?" Nnoitra grunted.

"I'm afraid we are going to have to confiscate them. It's against airport policy to allow canned food on airplanes." The man said as he opened Nnoitra's bag to take the cans. Before he could actually grab a can, though, slim fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"I can bring my guns on the plane, but yer sayin' I can't bring these?" Nnoitra questioned the man menacingly.

"Sorry sir company policy!" The man tried to free himself from the warden's grasp.

"We're on a private jet! Lemme take 'em!"

"Rules are rules, sir. Please let go of me before I call security." Nnoitra snarled.

"I don't give a fuck 'bout yer rules. Now give me my fuckin' bag back asshole!" Before the crazy stick-man could hit the bag-checker, Grimmjow grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and pulled him back hard.

"I'm not the mood ta deal with yer shit, Nnoi, so back the fuck down!" Grimmjow growled, and I felt a shiver go down my spine even though he wasn't talking to me.

The bag-checker started to pull the cans out of Nnoitra's bag when the raven haired man spoke up again. "What if I put the Spaghetti-O's in a bunch o' bags? Then can I keep 'em?" The guard looked at him like he was crazy but nodded.

"I'm not fuckin' waitin' for yer ass! I'll be on the plane." Grimmjow growled and released Nnoitra who went to buy zip-lock bags from the convenience store located inside the airport. He grabbed my arm and dragged me to our gate. I felt fear grip my insides like a constricting snake as I approached our plane's dock. I struggled in his grasp trying desperately to get away.

He pulled me close, so that his mouth was by my ear. "You're not goin' anywhere, Kurosaki, so I suggest ya stop strugglin' before I knock ya out and carry ya on the damn plane!" I glared at him, putting as much venom into the look as possible. He ignored me and flashed the tickets at the check-in lady. She ushered us through the gate and we walked down the long corridor to the plane, and to my doom.

I grit my teeth in an attempt to control the panic that was building inside me.

'No, no, no! I can't go back there! Kami please don't let him take me back! I can't go back! Ginjo's there!' I started to struggle again, much to Grimmjow's aggravation.

"Oi, kid."

"Shiro, I really can't go back. You have to help."

"I agree. But ya gotta calm the fuck down, ne?"

I blacked out as Shiro took control of my body.

***

When I woke up my hands were handcuffed together, and I was sitting in an uncomfortable plane seat. My eyes widened in confusion and shock.

I called out to my other half but there was nothing but silence.

"Shiro?"

"What do you wan' King?"He sounded jaded, broken.

"What happened? Why are we on the plane?"

"Che, I attacked the blue-haired bastard but he subdued me by pressin' on the pressure point in our neck. I didn' see it comin'."

What. The. Fuck? Grimmjow overpowered Shiro? That's fucking impossible.

"Not impossible king! Improbable."and that was the last thing Shiro said to me before he broke the link. I sat in my chair and tried to get my hands out of the cuffs but, in the end, my wrists turned bright red where the metal irritated the skin. I looked up when I heard footsteps to see Grimmjow approaching me with a scowl on his face. I looked towards the front of the plane to see that the door was closing behind a very pleased Nnoitra and an aggravated Shinji.

I could no longer escape.

Grimmjow sat down next to me and looked at me curiously. I looked away from him in angry embarrassment. He kept looking at me for awhile until he finally slouched down in his chair and closed his bright blue eyes. I decided to sleep too, if only to pass the unbearably long wait.

When I woke up Grimmjow was humming loudly to my right. The plane was in the air and, when I looked outside the window, I saw fluffy clouds beneath us.

I looked over at the attractive man next to me to see him with a slender pinky shoved half-way up his nose. He moved the digit in a rotating motion and pulled it out, inspecting it carefully before flicking the prize on the floor of the plane.

"That's fucking disgusting!" He looked over at me and grinned. "I don't give a flying fuck. Get over it."

"How long have we been in the air?" I asked. He looked down at the watch on his wrist. "Hmm, 'bout five hours." My eyes widened in shock at the news; I had slept for five hours. He looked at me intently.

"What?" I glared at him.

"Nothin', just wonderin' why you went ape-shit all of a sudden back at the airport." He kept looking at me, and I started to feel extremely uncomfortable.

Before I could voice my distaste, the plane started shaking. At first it was just regular turbulence, and I didn't think about it too much, but after 30 minutes of non-stop quaking I started getting worried. The flight attendant came over to us just then.

"Would you gentleman like any refreshments?" She winked at Grimmjow when she asked. He grinned at her flirtatiously.

"Two waters please!" I looked at him in admiration right then. He had gotten me water, how considerate of him. As she retrieved two water bottles from the food cart I asked "Ma'am? Is this turbulence normal?"

As if on cue the plane started shaking even harder. The flight attendant straightened up and gave me the warmest fake smile she could.

"This happens all the time, sir, there's no need to fret!" And with that she handed both the waters to Grimmjow and moved on to where Shinji and Nnoitra were sitting. I turned to look at the blue-haired man, waiting for him to give me some water. He ignored me and I frowned, 'Why wasn't he giving me my water?'

"Umm..., Can I have that?" He looked at me as if I had sprouted wings. Then he looked down at the water, stared at it, and then looked back at me. Then at the water again. Then me. The water. Me. The water. Me again. And then he started laughing. Hard. I glared at him. Was this a joke? I reached for a bottle that was sitting between his thighs with my cuffed hands, but he slapped my hands away.

"What the fuck? I'm thirsty!"

"Not my problem" he laughed and opened one of the bottles, gulping it down quickly. When he was finished, there was about half left. My throat screamed for it, as I realized the extent of my thirst.

"Please?" I put on my best pouty face and he stared at me, seeming to battle with himself and the decision to grant my request. Then he scowled in defeat and thrust the bottle to my lips. I tilted my head back and took massive swigs until the bottle was completely empty, my parched mouth now rejuvenated.

"Thanks." I said after I swallowed, licking my lips to rid them of excess water. I saw his cobalt eyes follow the movement and grinned. The bounty hunter then turned, ignoring me in favor of putting headphones in his ears. I sighed and looked out the window.

***

Around an hour later I seriously had to pee. I felt like my bladder was full to bursting and every bump and shake of the plane hurt like hell. I was trying to get the blue-haired demon next to me to let me go to the bathroom.

"Please! I have to pee! It's not like I can just walk out of the damn plane."

"Nah!" I glared at him and then let my face fall slack.

"Ok." He looked at me, "Ok?"

"Yeah, I'll just pee here." To prove how serious I was, I started to unzip my jeans.

"Ok, Ok... Don't fuckin' pee next to me." He pulled the key to the handcuffs out of his pocket and unlocked my restraints. I sprinted to the lavatory, which was in the back of the plane, to relieve myself. I sighed in relief when I finally let it all out. As I stood there draining my body of its waste, I suddenly felt weightless, like I was free falling or something. I finished quickly and washed my hands. The plane shook violently, making me fall backwards into the door. I started getting scared right then, wanting nothing more than to get back to my seat, and next to Grimmjow.

When I left the bathroom I realized something wasn't right. Firstly, I was standing higher than the front of the plane, and there was an extremely loud noise, like a roar, resonating throughout the small compartment. Secondly the flight attendant was securing the food cart to a harness that was next to the bathroom. She looked up at me and said "sir, you need to sit down immediately." and with that she rushed to the front if the plane, where she buckled herself in. The last thing that triggered my fear was the fact that THE FUCKING OXYGEN MASKS WERE HANGING OVER ALL THE SEATS! I started to panic as I rushed to my seat, but before I could get there the plane jerked again. I lost my balance and fell back, hitting my head against a seat armrest.

Pain shot through my head and I saw fireworks behind closed eyelids. My eye-sight blurred briefly and I groaned in agony. I tried to sit up, but I felt so weak. 'Get up! Come on get up!' I knew I needed to get in a seat and buckle my seatbelt, so I forced my arms to move. I felt my body sliding slowly down the aisle and I grabbed onto a seat leg to stop myself.

"Kurosaki!" I heard a husky voice calling for me, and I felt a strong hand grab my arm. I looked up to see Grimmjow standing above me. He was holding on to a seat with one hand and me with the other. He pulled me up and threw me into a seat and then sat down in front of me.

"Strap in, berry!" He yelled over the screaming airplane.

Did he just...help me? I was shocked. Grimmjow had risked his own safety in order to help me, a convict, to safety.

I heard a loud tearing sound and looked out the window. The right wing of the plane was damaged; the engine was missing and there was a cavern-sized crack running up the wing to the side of the plane. I watched as the wing ripped off at the joint, where it connected to the body of the craft. The broken wing plummeted down to earth, while the aircraft lost its equilibrium and started spinning uncontrollably.

This all happened in a split second. A split second that I should have used to buckle, but instead I had used to watch the plane break into pieces. A split second that caused the whole plane to shudder and twist itself to the left, like a canoe with only one oar. I was a split second too slow. I tried, briefly to strap myself in, but at this point I was already flying, like a bird caught in a cage, hitting the walls in reckless abandon. Only, I wasn't trying to escape, rather I was the bird being thrown around from someone shaking my cage too hard. I felt gravity relinquish its control over me as I flew into the sides of the plane. I had a firm hold on the seat I was previously in, but my body was spinning against the plane, so that, every time it rotated my legs would hit the seats or the ceiling. It hurt, Kami how it hurt. My body was bruised and battered, debris that was flying around sliced into my skin creating flesh wounds everywhere. I thought my situation couldn't get any worse, but it did.

I don't quite know how it happened, this is all just speculation on my part since I'm not Kami nor am I a physicist. What I believe happened was that the crack left behind from the right wing got deeper and wider, and eventually it caused the airplane to split into two. The front half of the plane, where Nnoitra, Shinji, and the flight crew were, broke apart from the back half, behind the wing. I watched in horror as that half of the plane kept traveling at a forty-five degree incline while my half of the plane fell down to earth at a sixty degree incline, no longer supported by the front half. We were traveling steeper and faster, and I finally lost my grip on the seat I was holding onto. I shot down towards the opening of the airplane, knowing there was no way for me to survive, but still trying desperately to grab onto something, anything that could save me.

That's when, for the second time today, a hand grabbed my arm and stopped me from falling. I was yanked into a warm lap and a firm embrace. Strong arms were wrapped tightly around my waist, my face was tucked in a broad chest, my legs were straddled over another's, and my arms were safely between two torsos.

"Hold on ta me berry!" The deep voice rasped in my ear, and I grabbed onto Grimmjow's shirt, vowing to never let it go. Of course, never only lasted ten seconds as the airplane smashed to the ground and I was flung from Grimmjow's grasp. I felt something pierce my stomach and another object slice my head as I was thrown around the cabin. It seemed to never stop; the rolling of the airplane lasted for eternity to me, and as I was thrown around like a rag doll, I wandered why we hit land when we were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. That was my last thought before I blacked out into blissful oblivion.


	3. Broken Things

When I awoke from unconsciousness I wasn't in the airplane. I could tell I was in the sunlight, what with the heat on my face and the bright light behind my closed eye-lids. I opened my eyes, squinting and turning my head away from the blinding rays. My eyes adjusted and I noticed I was lying in a sea of sand. What the-? I shifted and immediately regretted it. My whole body ached something fierce. My muscles screamed in pain, and I felt like every blood vessel in my body had burst. There was a sharp pain in my ribcage where there seemed to be a few broken ribs. I gritted my teeth as I sat up, trying my best to ignore the searing pain. However, what I saw made me want to lie back down.

About fifty feet away from me sat the back half of our private jet plan in ruins. There were no wings attached to this half of the aircraft, which I assumed had caused the airplane to barrel-roll along the beach until it finally reached a stop in the sand where it now lay. The battered frame creaked every now and then, pieces occasionally falling into the clear white sand. I scanned the beach, metal parts and seat cushions where scattered everywhere. I was sitting next to a seat frame, which I'm guessing was the same one I was sitting in when the plane crashed. The seatbelt was destroyed, having succumbed to the extreme pressure of the crash, which explained why I was in the sand and mostly unharmed. What the hell...?

'What the fuck am I letting this kid pee for? I must be gettin' soft…' I sighed and looked out the window of the extremely unstable airplane. I realized we were in potential danger when the hostess had flashed a fake-ass smile at the carrot-top-bastard next to me; hence my reluctance to let him take a piss. I sighed again and tried to relax in my seat by closing my eyes, but unfortunately fate chose that moment to throw, not just a curveball, but a mother-fucking sinker at me (pun intended). I felt my body shift forward in the seat ever so slightly, and my eyes shot open. The lights in the airplane flickered and died, and the plane tilted downward. I heard a loud explosion, and looked out of my window to see the right engine explode, seriously damaging the wing in the process. The plane took a dive after that, falling steeper and more rapidly than before.

'Fucking assholes would put me on a broken-ass plane. Well fuck you too!' My mood rapidly soured as I watched the oxygen masks collapse down from their designated place above the seats. I glared at the one hanging directly in my face and tore it down out of spite. I heard a loud bang coming from behind me and turned to see the strawberry on the ground, clutching his head in agony. I unbuckled my seatbelt without thinking and headed towards him, holding onto the backs of the seats for support. Once I reached him, I grabbed his arm and pulled him up, tossing him in a seat before sitting in front of him. I buckled up quickly and told the orangette to do the same. I put one of the stupid masks on and held on to the armrests, cursing Aizen and his stupid-ass-private-jets-that-don't-fucking-work.

I heard a loud tearing sound that made my ears ring and my mouth clench. Then, I watched in shock as the stupid aircraft broke apart in mere seconds. The plane started twisting, like you see in those old world war two movies; you know the ones where there's smoke everywhere outside the plane, and the aircraft is no longer controllable as it plummets towards the ground. You watch in dismay as your world is turned upside down and then right side up, only to flip you over again, as if to mock you. Once the initial shock wore off I realized I was scared, plain and simple. The fear didn't paralyze me or take up every thought in my over-loaded mind, but it was there, and it was very real. I didn't like the feeling of helplessness that surged through me, and I scowled at the stupid airplane for making me feel that way.

I heard the kid behind me scream and looked back to see that Kurosaki didn't get his seatbelt on in time. He was holding onto a seat for dear life, though it didn't do him much good. His body was free to fall towards earth ignoring the airplanes rotation and hitting every side of the plane over and over again. His was continuously bombarded with flying objects that cut into his legs and torso, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for him.

Another loud noise shifted my attention back in front of me, and I watched in horrifying shock as the plane split in half and my only friend left me behind with no one but an attractive, orange-haired killer with chocolate brown eyes and a scowl that rivaled my own. We started falling faster after that, and I looked back to see a panicked boy sliding towards the open end of the plane. I grabbed his arm quickly, knowing that if we survived this crash I would most likely need him. I held onto him tightly as I watched the ground play chicken with the plane.

10… I whispered to the boy in my lap…9…I took a deep breath…8… I exhaled slowly…7…my pulse quickened…6…my brow furrowed…5…five golden rings…4…I laughed at my joke…3…I tightened my grip…2…I glared at the ground…1…Wait? Ground?

We hit land hard, and the last thing I felt was my seat pulling free of the bolt holding it to the floor.

I came back to the present and remembered my companions or should I say companion. Nnoitra and Shinji were in the front of the plane and I could only hope that they survived the crash as well. As worried as I was for them, I knew I had more pressing matters at the moment, like finding the orange-headed bastard and seeing if he was alive. I struggled to my feet, grunting at the pain in my throbbing limbs. I gingerly walked over to the plane, and looked inside. It was a total shit-storm in there.

The plane had rolled on its side, so that the windows on one side of the plane where facing the sky and the windows on the other side where on the ground. The floor of the plane was on the right side, while the ceiling was on the left. The seats that where left intact were parallel with the ground, making it hard to walk through the plane. I picked my way through, searching for a tanned body or bright orange hair. I saw the food cart, which had collapsed between two seat rows, and walked towards it.

That's when I saw a hand wedged between the cart and the seat. At first, I didn't know what it was because it wasn't the normal color of a human limb; instead it was dark red, and purplish-blue. However, when I took a closer look I knew it for what it was and I moved as fast as I could over to the cart. I wrenched the cart out of my way, and watched as the hand fell down onto a battered torso. My eyes widened as I realized Kurosaki Ichigo wasn't as lucky as I was.

The first thing I noticed was his face. The normally angelic features where broken and bruised. There was a large gash on the right side of his face that was bleeding profusely. His lip was busted and his left eye was bruising to a deep purple color.

His chest was in even worse condition. His shirt was shredded, and from what I could see, there were gashes all over his body, probably from being thrown around the cabin during the crash. I sucked in a breath when I saw a metal piece, maybe a seat part, imbedded into the left side of Kurosaki's abdomen. His arms and legs were littered with cuts and bruises but nothing seemed to be broken, much to my relief.

I positioned myself over the seats so that I was hovering above the broken boy's body. I reached down and checked for a pulse. Surprisingly, he was alive. I needed to get him out of the plane in order to stop the bleeding from the few hundred wounds on his body. I awkwardly lifted him up by the arms, straining at the dead weight of the unconscious boy; my broken ribs screaming in angry agony. Once I got him into a better position, I lifted him over my shoulder and carried him out of the destroyed aircraft.

I carried him towards the tree line of a seemingly uninhabited jungle and laid him in the shade. Once I had him flat on the ground, I checked to see if he was breathing. I leaned down to listen and there was nothing. No air escaped his parted lips and I started to panic; not because I cared for the kid, because I didn't, but because I didn't want to be alone on some random island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and of course when we were rescued I would return his ass back to Las Noches.

'Wouldn't I be a badass if I brought him back even after a fuckin' plane crash? Holy shit yes!'

I quickly started performing CPR, breathing into Kurosaki's mouth and then pumping his chest rapidly to get his blood flowing. I was surprised at the softness of his lips even with them being badly chapped. I had to do this three times before I finally heard him breathing, though he remained unconscious. Once I got him breathing, I turned to the gash on his head and the piece of metal in his side. I needed to stop the bleeding as fast as possible, so I took off my white shirt and ripped it into strips. I tied a strip around Kurosaki's head to cover the gash, and I used a few to stop the bleeding around the piece of shrapnel. The temporary bandages should hold for about an hour, so with that said I went to find my luggage in the airplane.

I searched the luggage bins until I found my bags and carried them out of the plane. On my way out I passed by the seats that I had found Ichigo between, and I saw snacks, drinks, and the complementary alcohol bottles that were provided on every flight. I grabbed a few and brought them with me. Once I was back beside the orange-haired bitch I dropped my bags and headed into the forest. I needed to find wood, fresh water, and hopefully some sort of sustenance. Wood was easy; I picked up branches and twigs and brought them back to the temporary camp. After stacking the wood into a neat pile I took out my knife, lighter, and cigarettes.

I stuck a cig between my lips and lit it up. I looked in the pack, which was half-empty, and sighed, knowing withdrawal was going to be a bitch. I went back into the jungle and gathered dead leaves and brush; I needed that to get the fire going. Since it was a jungle, the leaves were fucking huge and fern-like, so I didn't need too many. When I had enough, I again went back to the fire pile and put them in. I lit the pile on fire and waited for it to catch, occasionally stoking it with a stick. Once the fire was big enough, I stuck the knife in it to heat it up. I needed to close the wound on Kurosaki's face and, since I didn't have a needle and thread, I was going to have to use heat to cauterize the wound. I felt a twinge of guilt because, even though the kid was a convict, he didn't deserve such a painful experience. I un-wrapped the shirt from the kid's forehead and situated myself so that my knee was on his chest and my free hand was holding his head down. Then I brought the extremely hot knife over to the kids head and laid it flat over the wound. Kurosaki's eyes snapped open and he screamed in anguish and pure, white-hot agony. He tried to move but my hold was firm.

"I know it's painful, but ya gotta' bear with it." I said to him as he screamed in agony. After 10 seconds I lifted the knife to see that the wound had indeed closed, though it was now red and blistering. There was an uncomfortable feeling in my stomach as I watched tears streak down his face. I wanted to comfort him and take away his pain. And I hated that at the same time. How could I feel sympathy for someone who killed a person? A person (although his was a murderer himself) who probably had family that loved him and mourned his loss. I shouldn't, I should have left him to die in the airplane. He was so close, so close to dying, and I had saved him, a murderer. It was impulse really, and I didn't regret it, but I hated that I didn't regret it. I hated murders so why didn't I hate this one? Aren't they all the same?

I walked through the dark streets of my neighborhood. It was silent, except for the occasional yawl of a cat of bark of a dog. I was on my way home from the grocery store, a bag of TV dinners in one hand and a six-pack of coke in the other. I approached my shack of a house and set down the bags to pull my keys out of my pocket. I fumbled with the lock for a few seconds before I finally got the door open. I stepped inside with the groceries, closing the door behind me before heading to the kitchen. I put away all the food, except for one TV dinner and a coke.

I heated up my dinner in an old white microwave and then ate it by myself in the silence of my home. I heard my mother's bedroom door open and listened to the shuffle of unsteady feet as they approached me.

"Grimmjow, baby? Did ya bring mommy her change back?" I nodded and pointed to the pile of coins and bills on the grimy counter. I looked at my mother. She had long, straight black hair that reached the middle of her back and dull blue eyes that were once bright and beautiful, before the drugs took the life out of them. Her once beautiful, clear skin was irritated and sunken, making her look older than her 32 years. She smiled at me and I fought the urge to heave. Her gorgeous smile had long since transformed into one of distress for me; her teeth had yellowed and the smile no longer reached her eyes. My mother was dead, replaced by an empty shell that lived for the consumption of methamphetamine and cocaine.

Yet, I found that I still loved her, still craved her attention, and still wanted her to tuck me in at night and hold me tight. I was an eight-year-old boy after all, still learning the ways of the world, and trying desperately to be accepted in a society that didn't accept social outcasts with insane, druggy mothers and missing fathers.

I went to bed that night and prayed, like always, for the mother that I remembered when I was younger; a woman whose smile could brighten anyone's day, and who cherished her life and her family.

But Kami never paid any attention to little boys and their prayers. I know this better than anyone because that night I woke up to the screams of my mother as she was being murdered. I listened to her sobs as I jumped out of bed and ran to her aid. I yanked her bedroom door open to see my beloved mother, on her knees with a knife to her throat and her hair being yanked back harshly by a large man. Her face was littered with bruises and cuts from being beaten by another man kneeling in front of her. I couldn't see either of their faces since they were covered by masks.

"Where's my money, ya good fer nothin' bitch?" the man growled out. I rushed in the room, seeing my mother in danger.

"Mama!" the two men finally noticed me. "Let go of my mother!" I demanded, but the man in front of my mother stood up and backhanded me, hard, in the face. I flew back and landed on my ass, stunned.

"No, please, leave him alone! Don't hurt my baby!" my mother begged. The evil man laughed and looked down at me. "Ya know what kid? Imma teach ya a lesson ya won't soon ferget! Imma show ya what happens ta whores who take drugs without payin' up. Pay attention now cause this part's import'nt!" he then abruptly turned to my mother and smacked her in the face. I whimpered and started crying. I got up again and tried to go to my mother's side, but the man threw me back again.

"Don't innerfere boy, or imma cut ya!" I looked at my mom, and she looked back at me. Her eyes were a surprisingly clear, bright blue, though they were filled with pain and sadness. They were the clearest I had seen them in a long, long time. The last words my mother spoke to me were not spoken by the drugged up, lifeless shell that I was used to, but by the woman that I was waiting for since my dad left five years ago.

"I'm so sorry baby! I love you so, so much, and I hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me for being such a terrible mother. I love you, sweetheart, I lov-," a long, steel blade slid across my mother's jugular, ending her life swiftly. I watched the eyes that I had been dreaming of dull and extinguish with a heavy finality.

And then I screamed.

I was shaken from my reverie by a hand gripping my forearm weakly. I looked down into chocolate brown eyes that were filling with pain and terror. The kid's mouth opened and he tried to speak, but it seemed he had screamed himself hoarse because no sound escaped his perfect lips. When I thought about it, all my past bounties were high-risk convicts that were in and out of prison or Japan's most wanted. This kid was nobody. Still, I didn't want to feel empathy for the boy, so I did what I do best; act like an asshole.

"Don't be a bitch, that's not the worst of it." I looked down at his side as I said this. His eyes followed mine, and he whimpered at the embedded object. I looked back into his gaze where I was met with a fierce and determined look. He nodded at me, signaling for me to do it. The hand on my arm slid down to my hand and squeezed tightly. I threw away his hand even though I felt really bad about it (stupid feelings) as I removed the drenched rags. I took hold of the foreign object embedded into the boy's side and looked up into his eyes again. Ok, now I felt like a major ass because the confident look was gone and the bastard was looking at me with large, fearful, pleading eyes that said he needed my hand. I glared at him, but let him take my hand again anyway.

"On a count of three," I looked into his eyes. "One..." his brows furrowed, "two..." I yanked at the piece of metal, feeling it give. The boy screamed again, his hand squeezed mine hard before going limp; he had fainted from the pain. Blood immediately welled up from the gaping hole in the boy's side, and I quickly put more of the make-shift bandages onto his side. I pressed down hard trying to stop the bleeding as much as possible. With one hand applying pressure to the wound I used the other to heat the knife up again. Once the knife was heated I removed the bandages and pinched the skin together, closing the wound. Then I put the knife on the ripped flesh and waited another ten seconds for it to fuse together. Kurosaki didn't wake up this time, much to my relief, so it made the process easier.

When I lifted the knife to inspect my work, I noticed that the gash wasn't completely cauterized. I had to repeat the process again because the knife didn't cover the whole wound. Once I was finished with my task I set the knife down and grabbed the mini-alcohol bottles and the shirt strips. I poured the vodka onto a piece of cloth and dabbed it over the burns, cleaning them as well as I could. Once the major wounds were clean, I moved to the cuts and scrapes. I had to remove the boy's shirt and pants for this, and I couldn't help but admire his body. Um, no! What the fuck did I just think?

I shook my head vigorously to get those thoughts out of my head. This kid was a killer and the only reason I saved him was because... Because why? I didn't want to be alone? Maybe. I looked down at the unconscious boy and scowled, knowing that he was most likely going to be more trouble than he was worth. I finished cleaning his wounds and sat back.

I was exhausted. My broken ribs were killing me, and my body was still incredibly sore. However, before I could rest, there were still a few things I needed to do. So, with reluctance, I stood up and walked back to the heap of metal that was once man's greatest invention. I walked through the plane, searching for anything that would be beneficial to my, or the kid's, survival. I retrieved the food cart from where I threw it and dragged it out of the plane. Then I loaded it with all the food and drinks I could find in the plane. I went back to the plane bathroom and salvaged for anything useful. I found a few rolls of toilet paper, soap, and a first-aid kit. Back in the cabin area I found a storage bin that contains a bunch of low-quality, black blankets and pillows. I grabbed them all and brought them out to set on the food cart. I felt like a homeless guy at that point, trying to find anything and everything that would make my shitty situation just a little better. I saw a bunch of Air magazines and safety Manuals scattered on the ground and scowled.

"Hey look a fuckin' Safety Manual! Real fuckin' helpful now assholes!" I was speaking to myself of course, since the only available recipient was currently unconscious. I grabbed a handful of the useless pamphlets to use for the fire and put them on the food cart with all the other stuff. With the cart overloaded with my findings, I pulled it over to where the strawberry was laying. I grabbed a water bottle and a bag of Cheetoh's and sat down next to the orange-head. I opened the food and ate about half the bag, before setting it aside. Then I opened the water and drank a few, glorious sips of nature's sweet nectar before I pulled it away from my still-parched mouth. As much as I wanted to drink more, I knew that I would have to ration the water, because the supplies wouldn't last forever. Once I was done, I capped the water and then rested my head on the tree I was leaning on. I passed out immediately.

There was something touching my face. It was soft and warm, and I leaned into it slightly. I nestled further into the cool sand under me, my body being heated by a bright warmth close by. I realized that it was the campfire I had built. I opened my blue eyes to realize three things. The first was that I had shifted down while I was asleep, so I was lying on the ground instead of against the tree. Secondly, it was now dark outside, meaning I had slept for a few hours. Lastly, there were chocolate brown eyes staring into my soul and the same person's hand was now placed soothingly on my face. Kurosaki Ichigo was touching my face…Remember what I said about the soothing hand? Yeah, I take that back; having Kurosaki's hand on my face was suddenly extremely annoying.

"…the fuck ya touchin' my face for, asshole?" I growled at him, and he yanked back his hand as though I had shocked him. I sat up, keeping my expression angry and threatening as I glared daggers down at him. Instead of shitting his pants in fear like I wanted him to, Kurosaki smiled warmly at me, making my traitorous heart skip a beat. Heart palpitations could suck my dick.

"Thank you, Grimmjow." He said simply. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have survived my injuries." I looked at the bandage on his head to see that it was a dark brown color, meaning it was time to re-dress the wound.

"'Tch, don't think I did it as a favor, strawberry. I don't revel in death like some people." The orange-head's smile was replaced by a scowl, and he tried to shift his body to face away from me. He cried out in pain and lay still, not daring to move.

"I need ta clean yer wounds again." He glared up at me, but said nothing. Without further ado, I grabbed another mini vodka bottle and shirt strip and set to work, cleaning the gash on his forehead again. I worked my way down his body, cleaning all the cuts along the way to his stomach. Kurosaki whimpered every now and then from the sting of the alcohol, but other than that he stayed quiet. I unwrapped the cloth from the wound on his well-defined abdomen and checked it for any signs of infection. It looked clean and well on its way to healing, so I cleaned it and rewrapped it. Once I was done I stowed away the alcohol bottles in the food cart.

"I'm thirsty." I looked down at the carrot-top who had spoken.

"Tough titties…"I grinned. He stared at me with his brows furrowed.

"Wow, aren't you mature?"

"I like ta think so." I grinned wider and threw the half empty water bottle at him. He drank it down greedily and then sighed when all the water was gone.

"How many bottles are left?" he asked

"Eight."

"And food?"

"'bout ten bags of chips, some protein bars, and some nuts." I sighed at this, knowing the food wouldn't last us long.

"Think we can find food in there?" Kurosaki nodded at the eerie jungle beside us. I looked into it and nodded.

"I hope so." I looked down at the only face I would be seeing for a while, and I decided it could be worse; I could be alone.

Nnoitra's POV

I'm so fuckin' bored! I looked over at the attractive blonde next to me and grinned, sticking a slim finger into his side. His face twitched in irritation as he tried to ignore me. I poked him again his lips, twitching as he tried to stifle his retarded seal giggles.

'Heh. Heheheh. Heeheehee. HAHAHAHA! Ah. I love pissing off Shinji.'

"Stop poking me you pain in the ass, or I'll break one of your fucking spoons!" I stopped laughing immediately. Shinji had taken it too far. I turned away from him to glare out of the window, feeling a tear well up in my good eye. I looked down at the case in my lap, fearful that he would try to take it. I opened it and pulled out a simple yet refined Antique English spoon with a floral swirl etched into the handle.

"Don't worry Marcus, I won't let him hurt you ever again!" I said soothingly to the poor victim of Shinji's grotesque mouth. I pulled out a piece of cloth from my jacket pocket and started polishing him, trying to make him feel somewhat less like a rape victim. Then, once he was clean, I put him to bed in the case, next to his brothers and sisters. I closed the lid quietly, so as not to disturb them, and looked over at Shinji. His face was extremely red, he had one of his hands over his mouth, and he was making a noise that was similar to that of a deranged donkey.

"Shinji? Ya Ok?" I looked at him seriously. Apparently, he couldn't hold it back anymore and he burst out laughing. What the fuck was so funny? I ignored him, deciding I needed to take a nice long nap, so I rested my head on the window and drifted off.

Shinji's POV

The airplane was falling. It had split in half and now the front half was falling rapidly down to earth. I held on tightly to my armrests and looked over at the man beside me. His eyes were closed and he was grinning creepily. How the fuck was he sleeping at a time like this? I looked over at the flight attendant in the front of the plane, to see that she was freaked out and extremely green. My grip tightened on the seat and I squeezed my eyes shut.

'I don't want to die! Please God, save me!'

I opened my eyes a few seconds after impact, only to wish I hadn't; the front half of the private jet was sinking rapidly into the ocean. I watched as the water level rose from my feet, to my ankles, then to my shins. The oxygen mask was still strapped firmly around my battered face, and I was still secured in my seat. I yanked the mask off, unbuckled my seatbelt, and looked over to see Nnoitra snoring in his seat.

"What the fuck you idiot! Wake up!" I shook him violently until a small beady eye opened to look at me.

"What?" He asked while yawning.

"The fuckin' plane's sinkin' ya dumb fuck! Now get yer ass up and let's get outta here!"

"Hey now, no need ta be so damn bossy!" Nnoitra snapped groggily. I seriously tried not to hit him, honestly, but I failed to prevent my angry fist from assaulting his face.

"Now!" I grabbed my carry-on bag and a floatation device and climbed my way towards the opening of the plane, where the back half used to be.

Nnoitra followed closely behind me after he grabbed his THREE fucking bags of luggage: one was a normal bag for clothes and toiletries, the second was for his weapons, and the third contained his spoon collection case and ziplock bags full of spaghetti-Os...I honestly think he should go see a shrink.

The water level was up to our chests when we reached the severed end of the plane.

"Uhh, Shinji?" Nnoitra sounded slightly nervous.

"What?" I asked while I blew up the AERO classic inner tube using the small, battery powered air pump that came with it. The tube was half full of air and I hoped it would fill before the plane sank below the water surface.

"Heh, uhh, I can't swim..." I looked over at him annoyed. "The fuck you want me ta do 'bout that? Grab a life jacket dumbass!"

He found one quickly, seeing as they were located under every seat in the plane, and put it on.

"Do I look fat in this?" He joked and I grinned despite my annoyance with him.

Once the inner tube was fully pumped I put in the plug and hoisted my stuff into it. The tube was large and had a flat bottom in the middle instead of a hole. Nnoitra put his shit in as well and we jumped into it just as the plane submerged into the sea completely.

"Pew tha' was a close one, ne? Hehe." Nnoitra said. I rolled my eyes and watched as our tube drifted aimlessly. I looked around and was relieved when I saw land not too far off in the distance.

"Nnoitra, we need ta get ta that land over there. Gimme some of yer spoons ta paddle with. I know ya got a few super big ones in there 'cause I saw 'em." Nnoitra looked like I slapped him in the face and he grabbed his luggage protectively.

"Fuck no! Those are collectors, ass wipe!" I growled, grabbed him by the arm, and flung him into the water.

"Sorry but getting to land is more important than your stupid spoons!" I dug around in his bag until I found two giant spoons. Nnoitra was screaming and trying desperately to get back on the life boat.

"Bitch! I can't swim, Shinji! Help me please! AHHHHH I'M DROWNING! I'M GONNA DIE!"

"Dude, chill! You have a life jacket on." I said but pull him out of the water anyway.

"Now are ya gunna calm down an' let me use these spoons, or are ya gunna make me push ya back in the water?" He glared at me but didn't stop me from using his spoons as oars. I handed him one, "Row on that side while I get this side."

"I'm so sorry Philip, Hugo, please forgive me for abusin' ya" Nnoitra said, his voice cracking mid-sentence. I looked at him incredulously. Was he serious?

We rowed in silence slowly approaching the land mass ahead of us. It was taking forever, and I was growing tired of listening to Nnoitra curse me under his breath, so I decided to jump in the water and pull the tube that way. I stripped down to my boxers and jumped into the water.

"What tha' fuck are ya doing, Shinji!?"

"What... Does it... Look... Like...asshole?" I grunted as I pulled the tube along behind me. "If you weren't so fuckin' FAT...this...would be lighter!"

I looked up at Nnoitra and saw the horror in his eyes. I belted out laughing. "BWAHAHAH~Oghh~" I coughed and spluttered out the water that had invaded my mouth. Nnoitra started laughing at my predicament.

"Haha, Karma BITCH!" He screamed, and I splashed him with water.

We were close to the beach now, thanks to me, and I swam faster. Nnoitra also started paddling his spoons faster.

Once I was close enough to touch the ground, I told Nnoitra to get out and help.

"Nah, yer doin' a great job, I'm just-"

"Nnoitra, NOW!" He hastily jumped out of the inner tube and started pulling the tube with me to the shore.

We pulled the tube up the beach and then I fell in the sand, exhausted. I looked up at Nnoitra.

"We made it." I heaved out. He looked around and then back down at me.

"The only question is, where the fuck are we?"


End file.
